


For Those Who Love

by Spacecadet72



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Forever (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-27
Updated: 2015-08-27
Packaged: 2018-04-17 12:01:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4665786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spacecadet72/pseuds/Spacecadet72
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peggy Carter meets Henry Morgan in 1938 when the SSR tries to create an army of immortal soldiers. An attempt to rid him of his curse goes awry, changing both of their lives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For Those Who Love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [htbthomas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/htbthomas/gifts).



> This is for htbthomas who requested Agent Carter/Forever. This isn't the suggested prompt, but it does focus on a Henry & Peggy friendship, so I hope you'll like it all the same. I've really enjoyed writing it. :D 
> 
> I have more i want to explore in this 'verse, so hopefully there will be more stories in the future. :D
> 
> A big thank you to [idelthoughts](http://archiveofourown.org/users/idelthoughts) for beta'ing this. 
> 
> "Time is too slow for those who wait, too swift for those who fear, too long for those who grieve, too short for those who rejoice, but for those who love, time is eternity." -Henry Van Dyke

**2011-New York**

The bell above the door jingled, and a voice called from the back.

"Be right out!"

Peggy smiled and set her sunglasses on the top of her head as she stepped further into the shop.

She ran her fingers over a pink and white tea set near the door. She had forgotten about it, but it had been hers years ago. Passing her old things on to Abe was easier than taking them to the nearest antique shop. Even though they would eventually be sold, it felt like keeping them in the family somehow.

"Aunt Peggy?"

Peggy turned around as Abe walked into the front room. She pulled him into a hug, her grin stretched wide.

"What are you doing here?" he asked as he pulled back.

"I've come back to New York."

"Sick of traveling?" Abe asked, with a knowing smile. She couldn't share the particulars of her missions with either Henry or Abe, but they both knew that she hadn't simply been on an extended holiday.

Henry knew the nature of her work better than most, having met her through the Strategic Scientific Reserve, what seemed so long ago now.

"Something like that."

“Is Henry here?” she asked as they walked further into the shop. 

Abe’s smile dropped. "He took the day off work. He’s downstairs," Abe said, gesturing towards the trap door in hidden under one of the large rugs. He herded her towards the kitchen and began filling a kettle at the sink. “Today is always hard.” 

Peggy set her purse down at the table and took a seat. “I know. That’s why I’m here. I wanted to see how you two were doing.”

Abe shrugged his shoulders. 

“I’m fine. I’d rather focus on the good times.” 

He got the kettle going on the stove and turned back to her. 

“Henry has a harder time with it.” 

Peggy made a little hum of acknowledgment. She’d known Henry wouldn’t be in a good place today. When she found out she’d be in New York, she’d made sure to block out time to come see them today. 

They sat in silence for the next several minutes and Peggy leaned back in her seat as she watched Abe get the tea together.

The last time she'd seen either of them had been sometime in the early ‘90s. The time apart was clear on the lines of Abe's face, on the extra gray in his hair that hadn't been there last time. She had been spending her time completing missions across the world, working with a rotating team of younger agents, many of whom she only saw for the duration of a single mission. The passage of time hadn't been so obvious. It always amazed her how much could change in a handful of years. And what wouldn't.

**1938-Classified**

“Are you ready?” Peggy asked, her voice echoing across the empty lab. They had turned on only as many lights as were necessary to see what they were doing, so the edges of the lab were shrouded in darkness. They couldn’t afford to be caught.

Henry looked up from adjusting the wires of the chair he was strapped to and nodded.

“I’m ready.”

Peggy paused, her hand held just over a large button in the middle of the panel across the room from him.

"Are you sure about this?" she asked, checking one last time.

He nodded. "You know why it is that I have to do this.”

She sighed. “I do. Alright, on three. One, two…”

On three, she pressed the button and the machine whirred to life. For a beat, nothing else happened, and they both remained still, waiting. The next moment, Henry gasped and doubled over, his hands clutching the arms of the chair as he hissed in pain.

Peggy darted forward. “Dr. Morgan!”

He forced his head up at her call, his voice hoarse and strained as he spoke. “I’m fine! I think it’s working,” he assured her, even as he grimaced.

The chair exploded.

Henry was thrown forward, away from the sparking remains of the chair. Winded, but miraculously still alive, he looked up, just as a blue burst of electricity arced out of the machine and struck Peggy. Her body went rigid and then she collapsed.

“Agent Carter!”

Henry ran over to her, and checked her pulse. It was faint, but she was alive. He began checking her over, and his heart felt as if it had stopped (and that sensation was painful whether it was literal or metaphorical) when he saw the large metal shard sticking out of her chest.

“Agent Carter! Peggy!” he called again, but she wasn’t conscious. Looking down at the blood seeping from the wound, he thought that was probably a mercy.

He widened the tear in her top to get at the wound. There was too much blood to get a proper look, but he could already tell that she didn’t have long.

He was supposed to be the one who died tonight. He had really thought he had a solution to his curse. It wasn’t supposed to be Peggy, the only SSR agent who had helped him, who had protested him being kept locked up in the labs. Those protests, and her willingness to question orders were why he knew he could trust her with his experiments. He couldn't let the SSR take his DNA to make an army of immortal soldiers, but since he was being held there, he could take advantage of their resources while pretending to be a willing subject.

He checked her pulse again and it was so weak, he knew it wouldn’t be long now.

“I’m so sorry, Peggy,” he whispered. His fingers still on her pulse point, he felt the moment that she was gone. Even if he hadn’t felt her pulse stop, he thought he would have known anyway. He was well enough acquainted with death—his own and others—that he knew you could feel it.

The tears that had been welling up since he’d seen her collapse began to fall—angry, guilty tears at the loss of a brilliant agent and friend, one who had only wanted to help him. His eyes slid closed, and he let out a shaky breath. As he opened his eyes in the next moment, he was blinded by a bright flash of light where Peggy’s body was.. Or where Peggy’s body had been.

The concrete floor of the underground lab was clear of any evidence that Peggy had just died in front of him.

But that couldn’t be possible. Could it? Energy humming through him, he leapt up. He wouldn’t find out kneeling on the floor. He needed to get to the river.

**1945-London**

“Abigail, what happened? What’s wrong?” Peggy asked as she shifted little Abe on her hip. She had just been about to put him to bed when Abigail had come home, her eyes red, looking shaken. Her back was straight, her head held high, but Peggy recognized the stiff upper lip approach to tragedy.

Abigail had called her in a panic hours earlier, asking her if she would watch Abe. Peggy was careful to limit her contact with the Morgans. She had convinced the SSR that Henry’s attempts to end his curse--and his life--had been successful, and she didn’t want to jeopardize that, but Abigail had sounded so distraught that she had come immediately to her aid. Apparently, Henry had gotten it in his head to go after an old beau of Abigail’s who had preferred a more forceful approach. She took Abigail’s distress that the meeting had not gone well.

“Henry, he…” she trailed off, her voice thick. She cleared her throat, and forced a bright smile. “It will be fine. Thank you for watching Abe.”

“It was no problem,” Peggy said, her words coming out automatically. He must have died in front of her. There was nothing else that could have shaken her that much. At least not that she wouldn’t have shared with Peggy. He still hadn’t told her the truth. Idiot. He was living with the woman, raising a child with her, and he couldn’t tell her the truth.

“Do you need me to stay? You look exhausted.”

Abigail shook her head. “I’m fine. I don’t want to keep you.”

She handed the baby over to Abigail with little fuss, knowing what exactly Abigail was trying to process and protect. Under different circumstances she would have fought harder to keep Abigail company, but there was something she needed to do.

\---

“You’re going to run.” Peggy said from the shadows, her words flat and edged with steel.

Henry froze, one hand on the bottom of the fire escape.

Peggy had hoped she was wrong, but he would have gone through the front door if he’d wanted Abigail to know he was there. He was saying goodbye to Abe. No matter that it would only serve to alleviate Henry’s guilt for a short time. One last visit before running wouldn’t do any good for Abe. He’d still be left without a father. 

He took in a shuddering breath as he turned around to face her.

“Yes.”

“Just like that?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

“She knows, Peggy. You know I can’t stay.”

Peggy didn’t know much about his past, but she knew there had been someone he’d trusted and that it hadn’t worked out. He was a fool if he thought Abigail would do the same.

“I know that you have someone who loves you, who is strong enough to live this life with you, and a beautiful little boy who adores you. You’re just going to walk away from all that?”

Henry said nothing, his expression betraying the agony he was feeling, but she knew the instinct to run was stronger.

“Don’t you give up on that, Henry. Don’t you dare,” she said, leveling him with a stare. “I know you’re scared, but if you can’t trust Abigail with this now, you’ll never stop running. And you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.”

Peggy waited for him to respond, and she wasn’t sure that it was enough. Henry’s fear ran deep, and she knew how to tell the differences between a runner and a fighter.

“How do I do this?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

“You go in there, and you trust her with the truth,” she said simply.

“It’s not that easy. When you’ve lived this long--”

“Love isn’t easy. The right thing isn’t easy.” she said, her voice firm and unyielding. “But it is worth it. I would have thought that living so long would teach you that.” She moved closer to him, her voice losing some of it’s edge. “You never know how long you have, so I would advise you to not waste any of it.” 

Henry nodded, his movements shaky. 

“You may want to use the front door. It will probably scare her less than sneaking in through the window,” she said, her tone dry. She threaded her arm through his. “Come on, I’ll walk you to the door.”

**1965-New York**

Peggy hesitated before knocking on the door of the Morgan’s apartment.

Abigail opened the door and her eyes were red, the skin around them puffy.

Peggy wasn’t surprised. Abe had come to her after he’d received his draft letter, told her of his parents' negative reaction. This kind of work had become her life, but it wasn’t that way for Henry or Abigail. They had done their duty and they had gotten out.

“Peggy,” Abigail said, her surprise evident as she wiped at her eyes. “Come in.” It had been a few months since her last visit. Peggy didn’t come around to visit as often as she would like. She was, as always, busy with SHIELD, but it was a comfort and a relief to be with people she didn’t have to hide her immortality around. 

Peggy murmured her thanks when Abigail handed her a cup of tea from the set already laid out on the table.

“Henry’s in the back, I’ll go let him know you’re here,” she said before hurrying out of the room. Peggy didn’t think she’d ever seen her so subdued. Abigail normally radiated life and energy. She had a ready smile and a quick witted, mischievous nature. It was supported by feelings that ran deep and an inner strength that Peggy respected. This restrained sorrow was something she wasn’t used to seeing in her friend.

But then, Peggy understood the horrors of war better than most, and this war wouldn’t be an easier than the others that came before. They all knew what was in store for Abe.

“Peggy,” Henry said, as he walked into the room with Abigail. He smiled at her, but it was strained, tired. “I take it you heard?”

Peggy nodded and set down her tea cup. “Abe told me."

"He's so eager," Henry said, sounding almost surprised. "He doesn't understand."

"He wants to do his duty, as you did."

"He shouldn't have to," Abigail burst out, sounding on the verge of tears again. "We fought so that he wouldn't have to."

"You've raised a good man," Peggy said, thinking of another good man who'd been just as eager to serve his country. "He'll be fine."

They both smiled at her, wan smiles that spoke of their desire to take whatever comfort they could. It was a hollow promise, one no one could really give, but one they would take all the same.

"I still have some contacts in the army," she said, reaching out to take Abigail's hand. "I can see that he's taken care of."

"Thank you."

She wouldn't have those contacts for much longer, when she was supposed to look like she was pushing 50 instead of 30, but for now she could still fake the aging with makeup and hair dye.

She could still help Abe.

"He was such a happy baby," Abigail said, suddenly with a wet smile. "All of the nurses loved to visit him."

"And several of the doctors," Henry added, his pride for his son clear in his voice, even as he sounded as close to tears as his wife.

"He was so healthy for having been found in one of the camps," Peggy said, remembering how skeletal so many of the people they'd found had looked. Even the fact that he was alive was a miracle. "He's resilient. You have to trust in that."

Peggy knew it wasn't really enough. They all knew that war didn't work that way. There were no pat answers in war, only harsh realities. But here, in her friend's kitchen, she could provide a little comfort.

**1985-New York**

Henry woke up to an insistent knocking on his front door. It echoed the pounding in his head, and he groaned as he pressed his hands over his eyes.

He knew it couldn’t be Abraham, he had a key. Whoever it was, it was much too early for—his eye caught the clock on the wall, and he realized he’d fallen asleep in the living room again. Half past one in the afternoon.

He’d been up late trying to put together clues about Abigail’s disappearance. It hadn’t been long before it became clear that he had no leads. The drinking had started soon after that.

He groaned again, screwed his eyes shut, and forced himself to sit up. The room spun for a moment and his blanket slid off of his lap onto the floor. He left it in a heap as he staggered towards the front door.

Peggy Carter stood on his front step, her back as straight as it had been during the war, the stance looking out of place with the casual, floral dress she wore.

“Hello, Henry,” she said with a slight smile. There was concern in her tone, but not pity and for that he was grateful. He could see her take in his appearance. His clothes were rumpled, and he couldn’t quite remember, but he may have been wearing them since Wednesday. It was Friday now. It may have been that long since he showered. He wasn’t sure.

“May I come in?” she asked before he could return her greeting.

He stepped aside to let her in.

He offered her a seat in one of the armchairs in the living room, and then floundered a moment while his brain remembered his manners.

“Would you like a cup of tea?”

“That would be lovely, thank you.”

Peggy waited in the living room for him to get the kettle going, and he took advantage of the opportunity to pull himself a little more together. He still looked like hell when he walked back in with two cups of tea, but the smile on his face was less forced.

“It’s been a while,” he said once they both had their tea. The last time he’d seen her had been just after Abe had returned from Vietnam, almost twenty years ago. He pushed down the guilt he felt in knowing he had given her the same kind of life he so wished to escape. He knew it was selfish, but he found relief in knowing that Peggy understood, that he wasn’t alone. Even if it wasn’t really Peggy he wanted at this moment. 

Peggy hummed a little noise of assent in response and then set her cup down on the coffee table. Henry knew that look, and he knew this wasn’t just a visit to an old friend to chat about old times.

“Abe contacted me,” she began, her voice low, almost a murmur. “He’s worried about you and asked me to check in.”

“I don’t need looking after, I’m fine.” 

Peggy looked at him, and then down at the several empty alcohol bottles next to the couch. He frowned at them. He’d forgotten that he’d left them there.

She leaned forward, and reached a hand out to rest on his arm. “I know how hard this is, Henry, but this has to stop.”

“It’s not the same,” he said, a surge of anger that she would try and compare their circumstances. He and Abigail built a life together. Her relationship with Steve had been full of almosts.

“Like hell it isn’t, Henry,” she said, her voice almost a shout. Henry winced at the loudness of her voice. “I know Steve and I may not have had as long as you and Abigail, but don’t you dare tell me I don’t know what this is like.”

Her expression lost its anger, and for a moment, she just looked tired. “I know how hard it is to let go, but you can’t let this consume your life. She wouldn’t have wanted it.”

Henry couldn’t yet say it out loud, but he knew she was right. Abigail had known, just as he had that this wouldn’t end well, but unlike him, she had fully accepted that risk. He had willfully ignored it until it was too late.

“How can I just stop?” He asked, his voice just above a whisper.

She grabbed his hand and squeezed it gently. “You don’t have to do it alone.”

**2011-New York**

“I’d offer you a drink, but I know you don’t indulge anymore.” 

Henry looked up as Peggy descended the stairs into his laboratory. She carried a tray in her hands, a tea set and two cups set on top. He wiped at his face, and stood as she walked towards him. 

“I didn’t realize you were coming over.” 

"I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d see how you were doing. Abe let me in.” She set the tray down on his desk and poured them both a cup. 

“Abe made the tea too. Said he thought you might need it.”

Henry nodded and took the offered cup. 

“I'm afraid I'll be sorry company tonight."

She shook her head and sat down on the couch near his desk. 

"I've told you, you're not alone. I cared about her too." 

Henry heard what she left unsaid. That she knew what it was to wonder, to have only memories and what ifs.

This time of year was always difficult, even after almost thirty years. Abigail had disappeared—left him—and he still didn't know what had happened to her. Didn't know if something had prevented her from returning or if she'd simply been happier—

Henry took a sip from his teacup. Peggy sat, silent, a comforting presence. She had been there for him since they'd met, even after he'd doomed her to an eternity of sharing his curse.

He had to admit, through his guilt and his grief that having a friend, one whose face stayed as forever young as his was a solace.

"Thank you," he murmured.

She nodded, knowing he wasn't just talking about tonight.

They both sat in silence, and even without words, Henry felt lighter. He still had questions that needed answers, but for now, they could wait.

Peggy's phone chirped from her bag. She caught the look of judgement on Henry's face as she turned to pull it out off her purse.

"They're useful, you know," she said, smiling, her eyes on her screen as she unlocked her phone.

"They're not worth everything that comes with it," he said, starting what was by now a familiar back and forth.

He looked up when she didn't counter with her usual arguments.

She was staring at her phone, her hand covering her mouth.

"Peggy, what is it?"

She looked up at him and for a moment could only stare. She glanced back at her phone. "It's...they found him." She sounded dazed.

Henry stared back in confusion. "Who did they find?"

He moved over to her on the couch, not sure what could have shaken her so deeply. 

Peggy shook her head and handed him her phone. He took it gingerly. He still didn't feel comfortable with these things.

The text was only three words and sent by someone named Nat.

_They found Steve._

He looked up, just as shocked as Peggy. He had never met Steve Rogers, but he certainly knew who he was.

"Are you alright?" he asked as he handed her back her phone.

"I'm not sure," she admitted, shaking her head.

70 years was a long time to go between visits.

He reached over and took her hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze. He was reminded of an afternoon almost 27 years ago where their roles were reversed. She had always been there to give him the push he needed; always there in his times of need. Now it was his turn to be her comfort. 

"You don't have to do it alone."


End file.
